


Obstacles

by VintagexTypewriter



Category: One Piece, Star Wars - All Media Types, The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintagexTypewriter/pseuds/VintagexTypewriter
Summary: A collection of short snippets or imagines from current or future stories that refused to let me focus until I wrote them down. Might become more at some point.
Kudos: 2





	1. With Great Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've caught the My Hero Academia bug and my only regret is that after binge watching the first season my mind decided that I had to create a character, and thus, Sora was born.

"I'm home." The red head calls out as she opened the door to the three bed and two bath condo she shared with her father knowing full well that her father was not home yet, the obvious sign of the condo being empty from the lack of sounds from within and the lack of light besides the dying rays of sun streaming in from the large windows leading to the porch, and she was talking to no one but herself.

Absentmindedly tossing her keys to the apartment into the small wicker bowl sitting on a slightly bigger dark wood round table that she bought herself for the only purpose it was being used for now, Sora toed off her small heeled shoes enjoying the relief after being on her feet all day and stretched her arms well above her head before reaching for the black elastic band keeping her long waist length hair up in a tight bun and shaking out her hair, the bangs on either side of her face standing up before falling and framing her heart shaped face.

Her father never understood, nor did he know now, why she spent a good chunk of change on the plush area rug sitting smack dab in the middle of the living room, almost completely covering the floor of the living room, but Sora knew the moment her sore feet sunk into the plush carpet it was money well spent even if her bank account hurt until her next paycheck came in.

The thin strapped red purse she carried her life in, hit the floor with a muted thump, thanks to the plush carpet, as Sora gracelessly flipped face first, making sure to take off her glasses first and set them on the arm, onto the couch large enough that it could sit eight people comfortably and let out a long drawn out moan of relief as she released the tension in her back before blindly reaching for the remote sitting on the small coffee table on the other side of the arm of the couch by her head.

Using her feet, Sora kicked the thick dark grey blanket off the back of the couch, a blanket she had made one summer years ago just for fun and because she was bored having to sit and let her broken leg heal, and half spread it out over her legs as she randomly flipped through the channels on the television without looking and only half listening to the news, catching snippets here and there between the numerous commercials.

“-purse snatching was interrupted today-” Gross, that was her pretty boy of an ex that cheated on her with his co-anchor at the time.

“-new hero on the scene-”

“-all this and more-”

“-five installments-”

Peeling open one bright blue eye, Sora couldn’t help but stare forlornly at the collection of papers clipped together and spilling out onto the carpet from where her large red purse tipped open and the flip was forced to expose the contents from the weight of all the items on the inside. She really should get to working on marking the essays she assigned her students on the impact of Quirks in the economy. It wasn’t anything exciting, her students reminded her that constantly, like the mandatory Quirk training but it was something they still had to learn to graduate.

Didn’t mean that Sora enjoyed reading almost thirty essays that were all virtually the same to varying degrees of writing skill.

Closing her eyes once more, Sora let the low sounds from the television lul her into a light doze, barely able to hear the sounds of the news or the sound of cars honking from the street a couple floors below as her mind drifted off. She really should get started on supper before her father got back, God knows the man couldn’t cook a good healthy meal that he didn’t need to throw in the microwave first and if he tried would almost burn down the apartment.

She knew that last part personally, and could still smell the burnt cake in the fabric of the couch if she focused hard enough.

There were vegetables in the fridge, at least there were this morning when she made breakfast but who knows if her father had ransacked the fridge after she left for school early this morning, and there should be some meat in the freezer so she could make stir fry; it was quick and easy to make and wouldn’t take much to make.

Where was her father? He promised her he would take it easy today, and he should have been because it was doctor’s order for him to take it slow every since his big battle a little over five years ago with All For One.

Yes, her father was the famous All Might and no, it wasn’t as great as people would think.

When she was younger, yes it was one of the greatests things even if she could never tell anybody that she knew. She was always so starry eyed and proud anytime her father was on the television screen with that wide trademark smile of his even if her grandfather figure grumbled and complained. Her father was also so embarrassing when she was younger, Sora had a very vivid memory of her father coming home one night and finding her in a full set of All Might styled pajamas and how the seven foot grown man who seemed completely untouchable breaking down in tears and pulling her into a tight hug, declaring her the cutest thing he had ever seen.

There were pictures of her father breaking down seeing her in those pajamas back at her father’s mentor, Gran Torino, place.

Now though, now she had a constant knot of worry and anxiety.

She wasn’t there for the fight with All For One, her father wanted her safe from harm as best he could, but she was there for the aftermath. She was there at his bedside, watching with dull eyes and worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as her father was covered in wires and bandages, the ventilator breaking the silence between the beeps coming from the heart monitor, and slowly twisting the lone blonde strand of hair in her between her index finger and thumb contemplating what was going to happen should her father never wake up again.

She never wanted to be a hero, that was her father’s dream, but sitting there, holding that little strand of hair, Sora wondered if she had what it took to take up her father’s mantle and be as great a hero as he was.

Luckily, he woke up and Sora never had to worry about a world without her father.

At that moment at least.

Now, with her father losing his ability to transform into his muscled state more and more every day and every time he used it, Sora worried about whether or not her father would be able to find an appropriate successor like what Nana had found in him and if he didn’t in time then she, as the most obvious choice given that she had trained her body alongside her father for year, would have to step up and make that tough decision.

Someone moved her legs and the couch dipped where they sat before her legs were draped across the thin legs.

Her father was home.

“Where’d you go?” He questioned with a mumble as Sora slowly rolled onto her side, her silky long sleeved dark blue blouse pulling in all the wrong spots as she did and coming half out of where she had it tucked into the waistband of her black pencil skirt, mindful of the dark pantyhose-leggings cross she had on that could tear easily if she moved wrong and were a pain to replace.

“Out for a walk.” She could feel her father adjust the blanket so it came up to her shoulders and not just ended at her waist. It was even bigger than a king sized blanket, it had to be with the fact her father was over seven feet tall even after he lost so much weight and muscle mass in his civilian form and that she was, on a good day, was six foot one, so it could cover the both of them and still have extra to tuck under their bodies to trap the heat in. “Busy day?” She could hear papers rustling and assumed he had grabbed the assignments from where they had ended up on the floor.

Sora groaned, picking up the edge of the blanket at her shoulder and pulling it up to cover her face, "Usual suspects making my life hard." She had three boys in her homeroom that she swore each had the middle name of 'Trouble' with how much stress they gave her as a teacher. All three boys had Quirks, with the leader of the bunch having a form of telekinesis that he used to wreak havoc on the rest of the school body.

She had already given him and his lackeys, because that’s truly what they were, a handful of detention already and the year had barely even started. Not to mention she already called the boy's parents once and had a meeting with them, a Quirkless couple who thought their son was a sweet angel-their words not hers-and it was clearly the other boys that were the bad influence because their darling Keisuki could never harm a soul. Honestly, and she told the boy’s parents, she was a few more serious infractions away before bringing up expulsion to the principal and he would lose all chance of getting into U.A. like he bragged to any willing ear he was gunning to get accepted too.

“What time is it?” She pulled back the blanket just slightly and opened one eye to look at her father from over her shoulder.

“Little after six.” He answered back before handing her the essays after she made grabby hands towards them then grabbing her favourite red pen-The Pen of Doom (TM) as her previous students had dubbed it-and began reading through the first paragraph of the first essay and not holding back. If her students wanted to be in the advanced courses then they were going to be marked as such.

They both sat, once Sora pushed herself up into a sitting position and curled up into his uninjured side, in silence, Sora could tell there was something on her father’s mind from the way his arm resting on the back of the couch close to her keep opening and closing in time with a muscle in his jaw as he mulled over his words, staring ahead at the television that was just playing a commercial now but she knew to let him figure it out in his own time so she just went on marking essays.

She always started with her struggling students, the ones she knew needed the most notes because when she first started marking she knew her notes always sounded encouraging as opposed to the notes she left on the last few assignments done by her start students who she knew shouldn’t be making the mistakes they were.

 _Good point_ , she wrote beside a circled sentence, _needs a little more evidence to make it a strong point. Look up statistics from other countries to help prove your point._ “I’m thinking stir fry for supper.” _Redundant point and run on sentence._ “That work for you?” She spoke around the cap of the red pen in her mouth as she circled yet another line before adding a note. _Tell me why, because you have already said how and give an example of a job or jobs that have been impacted._

  
“I met someone today.” her father says after a few beats and Sora merely spares him a glance out of the corner of her eye before setting down the essay she finished marking and grabbing another off the pile and already seeing one major mistake.

“And?” She lets the question hang in the air, looking up and squinting at the television playing clips of a rescue from earlier this afternoon. Just went out for a walk her ass, she knew those two standing locks of hair silhouetted by fire that, when she was younger, reminded her of rabbit ears. “You can tell me if you’ve got a date, Dad. I’m not going to be mad.” Looking back down at the paper on her lap, Sora went to underline a word.

_Wrong meaning._

“Not...exactly.” There is a strained tone in her father’s voice that has Sora furrowing her brows and scrunching up her nose as her pen, her trusty pen, was dragged across the paper as she began to circle the last line of the first paragraph. “I found my successor.” And her pen drags across the whole paragraph because out of everything that could have come out of her father’s mouth at that exact moment, _THAT_ is literally the last thing she expected.

"Shit." It's not very elegant but it greatly sums up how she is feeling at that moment as her head snaps to look at her father, the man making a point to not look at her and stare straight ahead. _Shit_ , Sora thinks to herself so she slowly, ever so slowly, pulled her eyes away from her father-she can feel how wide they are and it the shock of the news she dropped the pen cap from her mouth-to look back down at the paper on her and seeing the long red line going straight through not only the paragraph she was editing but the whole paper.

_Double shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow my tumblr for more up to date news on future stories and chapters.  
> https://vintage-typewriter.tumblr.com/


	2. Durian of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the very first scene I imagined when I started writing Wren's story in Card-Sharp. Don't know if it will still happen as plans have changed but I figured I give readers of that story a small glimpse into how Wren came to be.

She had once read somewhere-or had she known someone who had mentioned it? It was so long ago now-that the best description for the fruit she now held in her hands was The Purple Durian of Doom.

Maybe durian was the wrong fruit to compare it to as it mostly looked like a bunch of oversized grapes smushed close together with one end having a slightly point to them and simple swirl designs on the outside-skin?-of the fruit.

Correction, the durian comparison worked better and flowed off the tongue smoother. The only difference-besides the obvious actual durian vs actual devil fruit-was the fact that The Purple Durian of Doom was soft, not hard or rough, on the outside and had a little give to it like a ripe tomato and not an actual durian.

Probably made it easier to eat.

This small-well not like _small_ small but not big, just small enough that she could hold it in one hand and only have an inch or two spill off of either side-devil fruit was the cause of so much pain and suffering in the world-would cause? Had caused?-just because of one man’s ambition to become the strongest and most dangerous man in the world.

Was this how Thatch had found it? Did the Whitebeard’s attack-we’re they attacked first and only retaliated against the Marines?-the convoy she was second in command of? Or did the fruit reach its destination before being ship off again and is that where the downfall of the Whitebeard’s started?

Wren shook her head slightly, trying to clear her mind of those thoughts- _“Woah, is that a devil fruit?” “I think so.” A feral grin with narrowed eyes. Flashes of lightning. Booming thunder. A brother-son lying in his own blood, a stab wound in his back. A feral grin above light by another flash of lightning._ -and tried focusing her thoughts on what she could do-what she would do-now.

Bury it? No an animal could dig it up or a person and who knows what could happen to it then.

Keep it with her? It would be obvious to anyone she encountered that she was/would be trying to protect something from them.

Leave it here? Oh Hell no. That was asking for the War of the Best to happen.

Drop it in the ocean as soon as she got far away? That would probably end like the last idea.

It really only left one option, something she was dreading.

The only safe option, the only way to know for sure that The Purple Durian or Doom would remain out of Teach’s hands and out of the hands of anyone else that could use its power to do harm to those she loved.

She was going to regret every second of this.

Stretching her jaw as far as she could make it go, Wren closed her eyes so she didn’t have to witness the anchor she was tying to herself with each bite she took, only stopping once she knew The Purple Durian of Doom was no more.

She had cooked better tasting food than whatever the hell that thing tasted like.

She let out a sigh, mostly to try and eliminate the taste of the fruit with air which didn’t work as well as she hoped-God, the taste would probably never get out. With one step of her plan done with-Deal with the evil durian-she could move onto the next step in her plan to get out of dodge; grab her notebook and make sure that no one would ever use this base again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow my tumblr for more up to date news on future stories and chapters.  
> https://vintage-typewriter.tumblr.com/


	3. One Republic

The dreams are always the same.

Neva’ra stands in a purple void, the colour so dark she called it black at first before she registered the slightly shifting tones in the space around her, with only the pale white dots spattered in the air around her breaking up the darkness even if they gave off no light themselves.

She can walk in any direction and never reach the end, or even get close enough to the odd stars that litter the landscape.

It used to scare her, being in this void alone, until she met the other woman.

The other woman appeared to Neva’ra one night, shimmering into existence as the world warped around her, and since then the other woman has been a permanent fixture in the void of Neva’ra's mindscape.

She wears a black cloak attached to shoulder pauldrons with the hood drawn up to shadow her face. The cloak is open, bellowing in the nonexistent wind showing off the red combat suit and equally dark coloured red arm guards covering the dark grey flight suit under them that are skin tight and show off the feminine figure of the jedi, and it's obvious she is one from the two lightsabers clipped at her hips, paired with black knee high reinforced boots to protect her lower half.

The tight flight suit I'd the only way Neva’ra is able to tell the figure across from her every night is a woman because covering her face, barely able to be seen from the shadows cast by the hood, is a mask with a T shaped visor.

Neva’ra does not know who the woman is, she never speaks, never moves, never gives any sign that she acknowledges Neva’ra is there.

She has never been able to touch the other woman. Every time Neva’ra has tried something has stopped her whether it be her waking up or the force stopping her hand from wrapping around the other woman's crossed arms.

Today though, today Neva’ra plans to change that.

Neva’ra blinks her eyes open, standing from the knelt position she was in before coming into this meditative trance, and swiftly turns on her heel to face the other woman, her padawan braid lightly smacking her in the face from the speed as she marched with the faint sound of her heels clicking in her brown knee high boots against a ground that was both there and not, coming to stand directly in front of the mysterious woman.

Today, today is going to be the day she makes contact.

Her brown eyes try to drill into where she thinks the other woman's eyes are under the mask and she doesn't break eye contact as she slowly lifts one golden honey coloured hand up from her side with the intent to place it in the center of the other woman's chest.

Her hand gets about halfway to its destination before Neva'ra starts to feel a pressure against it, pushing her away with as much force as she exerts and never any more.

Gritting her teeth, Neva’ra pressed on against the invisible force pushing against her, working against her, until it feels like the oxygen is being pulled from the nonexistent air around her, choking her but she still presses on.

She WILL make contact with the mystery woman today.

Her hand inches closer and with each millimeter closer it gets to the other woman's chest, the pressure on Neva’ra's body builds until she can see her arm shaking from the strain and it feels like there is a lead weight sitting on her own chest constricting her breath until it comes and goes in shallow gasps.

But she is so close, the closest she's ever been, and she can already imagine the cold biting feel of the metal beneath her fingers and palm before all the air is sucked from her lungs and something shoves her away.

Gasping for breath, Neva’ra slowly curls the one hand that caught her on the red carpet of the meditation room she and her master, a blue skin and white facial marked Togruta named Shaan Madran, had commandeered for the early afternoon on Coruscant in the jedi temple.

With the other hand, the one that hadn't caught her from falling to the ground from the force of being pushed from her own mindscape, Neva’ra can feel just how soaked with sweat her white tanned padawan top as she tries to catch her breath finally able to draw in a lungful of air.

Looking up from under the damp locks of black hair, the ones that aren't stuck to her forehead from the sweat, Neva’ra can't help but feel jealous of her master and just how at peace and serene the older woman looks illuminated by the ray's coming in from the large windows behind her master's still body.

"Patience, padawan." Her master's voice always sounds so calm and smoky. "The Force-"

"-Will reveal all in time." Neva’ra repeats in a monotonous tone what Master Madran has told her time and time again after taking Neva’ra under her wing for tutelage. "But I want to know who she is." Neva’ra lets out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest after pushing herself back into a sitter position with her legs crossed under her.

Master Madran let's out a deep sigh, slowly opening her eyes and meeting Neva’ra's deep brown with her bright orange. "And one day the Force will show you." She spoke with the voice of a woman who had experienced much. "Now, come." Master Madran stood up from her own meditative stance with poise that it looked effortless while Neva’ra stumbled hastily to her own feet, "I do believe we should go for a walk."

Neva’ra couldn't help but think that the two of them, paired together as they walked the halls of the temple side by side on the way out to the large garden on the other side of the building, were completely different not just in species type but right down to their cores.

In the time she had been trained under Master Madran, never had the woman ever shown any signs of exhaustion; not even in her voice. Master Madran always stood ramrod straight, her head held high, her montrals pointed up to the sky, hand held in front of her and always covered by the long sleeves of her brown cloak, as she glided along the floor looking every bit of elegant royalty Neva’ra had only seen in passing back on her home planet.

Neva’ra looked like a womp rat, at least in her mind, every time she stood beside her master.

"Where would you like to walk?" Master Madran questioned Neva’ra as they stepped outside the temple, a light breeze cooling them both even in the middle of the afternoon when the sun on Coruscant was still high in the sky.

"Our tree?" Neva’ra supplied before following after her master's leisurely pace.

Their tree was not really their tree but they both soon began to call it that as Master Madran and Neva’ra always found themselves walking in that direction any time they came to the garden together.

It was an old tree, and the oldest plant in the garden, dwarfing even the tallest of statues depicting a jedi master from the Old Republic, and the Force seemed stronger in the air like one could reach out and touch it and feel it dance through their fingers like free moving water. There is a ring of water surrounding it coming from the fountain towards the entrance to the gardens from where Neva’ra and her master walked out like the architect knew to never cut down the tree and to make his symmetrical design around the weeping willow.

And there, under the old weeping willow, was a long wooden bench that Neva’ra had spent many an afternoon sat on that dark wooden bench, digging her chipped nails into the gouges angry at herself for not being as talented as the peers her own age having only started her training a mere two years ago when they had at least double that.

There, sitting on the bench, was where Neva’ra had first met Master Shaan.

She had all but raced out of her class, unable to deal with the whispers from her younger classmates, and by chance found herself outside in the gardens drawn to this exact tree, she didn’t want to say it was the Force that drew her here-at least, not when she was younger would she have wanted to admit that-but there was truly no other good explanation as to how she ended up under the weeping willow without knowing how to get there to begin with and was found by Master Madran, and the Togruta woman would later claim she was pushed by the Force to go on a walk that day in that particular spot.

After one conversation, Master Madran agreed to take Neva’ra on as a padawan and the rest, as they say, was history.

“Master Nu has told me you have been spending many hours as of late in the archives.” Master Madran states as she sits beside Neva’ra, the younger girl sits with her legs crossed under her as she bashfully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear that had come loose with the cool breeze.

Neva’ra closes her eyes, resting one of her hands palm up on her knee and wiggling her fingers with a slight smile on her face as she feels the Force between her fingers. “I’ve been trying to see if anyone else is like me.” As in they also see what she does when they meditate.

Before Neva’ra came to the temple, she remembers her void mindscape being just that; void, and it wasn’t until a freak accident back on her home planet when her Force abilities made themselves known and the mystery woman appeared.

Master Madran hummed and Neva'ra couldn’t help but peel open one of her eyes to look out of the corner of it at her straight backed teacher and the only sign that she was even affected by the steady breeze was the slight ruffling of her brown cloak and the swaying of the gold chain between her two long montrals. “Master Kenobi.” Master Madran slowly turned her head to face the side Neva’ra was sitting on. “It’s a pleasure to see you today with young padawan Skywalker.” Neva’ra quickly sat herself up straighter to match her master’s own posture as she swing her head to her right to watch as the new young jedi master with his controversial padawan at his side, the young boy only a year older than her from what she heard had a scowl on his face as he tramped behind Master Kenobi.

“Master Madran.” Master Kenobi greeted the older Togruta woman with a cursory bow of the head before doing to same for Neva’ra. “Padawan Ordo.”

"Master Kenobi." Neva'ra greets with her own half bow but goes to focusing on the padawan at the mans side.

She can count on both hands, and still have fingers left over, the amount of times she has encountered Anakin Skywalker and most of them had been in passing in the archives or down the temple halls as he went to the mandatory classes, that Neva'ra herself had to take when she first got to the temple, the council ordered so he could catch up to his peers and she went to go find her own master to train.

Neva'ra can remember the first time she met the other padawan for it was a somber occasion; the funeral for the late Master Qui-Gon Jinn. 

Though she personally had never met the man, her master considered him a dear friend and stood beside Obi-wan and his newly acquired padawan as they stood silently and watched a wise man to be laid to rest.

That was where Neva'ra had first laid eyes on Anakin and had her first impressions: weird.

And her impression of hum hadn't changed from that moment.

Neva'ra had heard the rumours from the other padawan learners like herself that Anakin was getting special training from the other masters, something that had never happened before, to help him catch up to the others of his age and that made Neva'ra jealous as she had to suffer through the beginning classes with padawan learners much younger then her and only got out of them when Master Madran stumbled upon her in these very gardens and agreed to take her under her wing.

"Padawan Ordo," her master spoke up and Neva'ra almost smacked herself in the face with her padawan braid from how quickly she snapped her head to look at her master and taken her gaze away from Master Kenobi and his own padawan, "why don't you take Padawan Skywalker on a trip around the gardens. I'm sure you would prefer that over listening to Master Kenobi and I catch up." Master Madran never even looked her way but still kept that regal air about her.

Uncross her own legs to hop off the bench, Neva'ra quickly bowed to Master Madran. "Okay Master." And turned to face Anakin, "Have you seen the Galek trees yet?" When he shook his head no, Neva'ra grabbed his wrist with one of her hands, giving both masters a proper bow, and took off to the fairest end of the garden where the silver leaf trees grew.

"These are from my home planet." Neva'ra explained letting go of Anakin's wrist to reach up and pull down a low hanging branch to bring the silver leaves closer for inspection. "I like coming to this part of the garden because it feels like home." It was her second favourite place in the whole gardens just after where she and Master Madran had met. "Not many jedi are welcomed back home but one was lucky enough to get galek tree seeds and bring them here." Neva'ra explained how the silver leaf tree got to the garden while quietly passing the branch to Anakin so he could get a closer look at it. "Where are you from?" That was a question Neva'ra had wanted to know as that seemed to be a question none of the other padawans were able to get an answer for as they had yet to spend any one on one time with Master Kenobi's first padawan.

"Tatooine." He released the branch and both of them watched as it snapped back to where it had been before Neva'ra had grabbed it. "Where are you from?" He asked right back and Neva'ra bit her bottom lip slightly, bringing her hands up to pull her black hair in front of her shoulder so she could play with it as she answered his question.

"Mandalore." She mumbled expecting him to tease her like the other padawans.

When she first arrived at the temple, Neva'ra had been very proud to both be Mando'ade and from Mandalore. Anytime anyone asked her where she was from she would hold her head high and, with a smile on her face, proudly proclaim to be from Mandalore and a direct descendant of Mandalore the Preserver-a fact that had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember. And the datacron that hung around her neck, hidden from all prying eyes, carried within it her complete family tree so that she could never forget where she came from.

That was when the bullying started and it didn't take long for Neva'ra to stop taking pride in who she was, who she was descendant of, and where she came from.

Mandalorians were no more than well trained thugs in the eyes of the galaxy.

"Where's that?" The question shocked Neva'ra and caused her to stop playing with her hair. Did he really not know, or was he just pretending so that he could bully her like the rest of the padawans that were older than her or knew about the Mandalorian Wars?

"It's in the outer rim." Neva'ra answers before crouching down, and pulling Anakin with her to closer inspect the golden amber ferns that grew around the base of the Galek tree. "Do you have anything like this on Tatooine?" She had never heard of that planet outside of the masters mentioning that it was where Anakin was from.

"No." He mumbled out from beside her, reaching out with a hand to caress the leaves of the ferns. "It's all sand." There were a few moments of silence between them, the only noise coming from the fountain in the gardens that was barely a hum and the footsteps of people walking by them off in their own worlds, before Anakin opened his mouth to ask "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" Neva'ra shot back with wide innocent eyes.

"Most padawans don't like to talk to me. They think I'm getting special treatment from the council and that Master Kenobi shouldn't be my master." She hadn't heard the part about the fact Master Kenobi shouldn't be Anakin's teacher, so that was news to Neva'ra so she just shrugged her shoulders instead standing up and motioning for Anakin to follow her further into the gardens.

"They're just jealous." She had heard the mean whispers from the other padawans, that thought they were being quiet but were really not, while she was studying in the library. "Before it was you they were talking about it was me." It wasn't often that the temple took in an older child and for there to be two in such a short amount of time should have been what people were talking about not who they were talking about. 

"Why would they talk about you?"

"Because I'm Mandalorian."

"And?" They stopped under a weeping willow and Neva'ra tried to sense with the Force if he was being genuine in his questioning if he was just trying to fool her.

The Force showed no signs that he was trying to fool her.

She hummed, staring at Anakin and decided that her first impression of him, at the time was appropriate but now needed to be changed because he was not who she expected.

"Neva'ra Ordo." She stuck her hand out for him to shake while a smile formed on her lips, her other hand coming up to brush her hair back behind her ear as a small gust of wind blew it in front of her face, and a mildly confused look came over his but he still accepted her handshake as, from over his shoulder Neva'ra could see Masters Madran and Kenobi walking down the path towards them.

"Anakin Skywalker." 

She could tell this would be the start of a wonderful friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how many times I changed Neva'ra name until I finally settled on one. There still might be some earlier versions of her name in this chapter that I didn't catch on my read through and I apologize now for any confusion that may cause.
> 
> As always, please follow my tumblr for updates on future stories or chapters at https://vintage-typewriter.tumblr.com/


	4. Iron Sky

“Seriously, I’m fine.” One Sarah-Jane Smith sighed into her phone as she flopped down on the white sheet covered bed of her three bedroom apartment, her dirty blonde hair fanning out like a halo around her head as one hand held the phone by her right ear and the other toyed with the golden french horn necklace wrapped around her neck. “You’re overreacting for nothing.” Her honey coloured eyes watching the fan spin round and round.

She could hear the man on the other side let out a groan as she could picture him flopping down on a couch with his head hanging over the back as he held his own phone to his ear. “Sure. I’m overreacting.” His accented voice was full of sarcasm as his eye roll translated over the phone line. “Not like your dad told me to watch over you and you decided the best place to go was ground zero for anything supernatural.”

Sarah couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she flopped over onto her stomach pulling her shirt down from where it was sneaking up in the back, “Uncle B, I love you but I wouldn’t trust you with a plant.” That got a laugh out of the man on the other side. “And what would my dad say if he ever learned that I was here all by my lonesome and you were where? Vegas?” 

The man, her uncle, chuckled on the other end. “I love you kid, but not enough to deal with the teenage drama. But hey, you figure out where you want to go to college and need a place to stay...” He trailed off and Sarah toed off her socks as she kicked them in the air above her as she reached down to grab a history text book from off the ground by her bed and flipped to the first chapter to try and get ahead of the rest of her future classmates only a couple days away from the beginning of her last year of high school.

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat as a silence came between the two of them. Part of her wanted to know but there was another warring part of her that told her that if she didn’t know where he was, she could pretend at least that he was safe and sound. “Have you...” She hoped her voice was stronger than what she felt.

Her uncle sighed on the other end, “No kid. You know how he can get.” That she did. Growing up was hard enough for her with her dyslexia making it difficult for her to learn, even now it still affected her, and the added stress of her father leaving for periods of time with no warning.

It hadn’t been so bad when she was little, he took her almost everywhere with him before she started going to school, but when he finally decided she was old enough to look after herself without burning down the house or apartment they had at the time he would take off for longer and longer periods.

“Can you...”

“Yeah. I hear anything I’ll let you know.” There was a pregnant silence between them. “Hey, you're my favorite niece, I wouldn't do this for just anyone." There was a teasing tone back in his voice that brought a smile to her face.

Sure, her uncle could be surly and get on people's nerves from his apparent lack of emotions or basic social skills but deep down he was caring to those he let get close.

"I'm your only niece." She smirked into the receiver.

"Still counts." He chuckled and Sarah could hear his genuine smile in the tone. "Keep yourself safe, and call if you need anything."

She wasn't expecting a 'love you' from the man, she knew he wasn't the type to say and that she knew that he knew that she knew that as well so Sarah wasn't surprised to hear the dial tone quickly after his last words to her.

Part of her wished she had taken him up on the offer to run off to Vegas, not like she would have any problems getting into any of the bars or casinos, but the more sensible part of her, and the part that won, knew that she needed to get an education to provide for any future family she would have.

That was how she found herself in Mystic Falls.

The last school she had been at had been in Washington state before her father had whisked her away to the other side of the country before leaving her to fend for herself yet again.

Jumping from school to school, state to state, and country to country was a common occurrence and everytime she graduated one grade she would find herself attending a different school the following fall 

She knew why they always had to leave once she was done school for the year, but it never made it any easier.

Her father was very good at what he did and unfortunately what he did tended to catch the eyes of people exposed to their world and would come hunting for the troublemaker - her father.

Here though, in this little town that she had taken a Greyhound to after her father left her three towns over with a promise to be back soon, was the perfect place for her to hide out for her last year of high school.

This town was so infested with supernatural creatures it was like a beacon drawing them in from all over the world.

There were humans for sure, half the town was normal, but there were also so many vampires roaming in the daylight and werewolves roaming the night and the little lone witch that she noticed a few days before when she had gone in for registration and to collect as many textbooks as she could before the year officially started.

There were so many supernatural creatures in such a little town that no one even noticed her the day she stepped off that bus.

*

For all the supernatural comings and goings in the little town of Mystic Falls, it was just as boring as any other small town in America.

People not involved with the supernatural went about their lives in their own routines never once looking twice at the odd amount and types of deaths the town had suffered in such a short time.

The town even had its own day celebrating its founding, even going so far as to call it "Founder's Day" and making it a holiday for the town with parades and carnivals included.

And here everybody knew everything about everybody else. 

The kids that stood and stared at her in the halls of the high school, well, their parents knew the parents of their friends because that had walked the very same halls as their kids and their own parents as was the custom in such a small town.

And having jumped from small town to small town over the years Sarah became quite immune to the stares she was getting as the new fresh meat in the halls as she tried to find her way to the main office while trying to to show just how lost she was as every time she looked at a number or name plate on the doors to classrooms the numbers and letters all decided it would be a good idea to dance around.

Once she got into a routine it would be fine though, she had discovered that fact early in her education, and she would know what classrooms she needed to be in from memory.

It was just a matter of starting that routine that was always a pain in the ass.

Letting out a small grunt as a dark haired boy a good head taller than her, dressed in a letterman jacket with dark blue jeans, and built like a brick house carelessly walked into her shoulder as he walked backwards with no care as to who he could be walking into as he called out to what Sarah assumed were a mix of his friends and teammates.

She could only roll her eyes as she stepped under a glitterin banner being hung up by two matching blondes, arguing over who should lift what side up or down to try and get it as level as they could, welcoming back students and sidestepping the gaggle of girls standing just to the right of the door to the school’s main office - the large rounded desk with an aging dark haired woman sitting at it with two computer scenes in front of her was a big sign for her that she was at the right spot - giggling and gossiping about a ‘Senior Prank Night.’

Sarah didn’t think much on that, with the amount of schools she had been to over the years she had heard pretty much every tradition there was for seniors to partake in with some happening the day they all came back from summer break, halfway through the year for a ditch day of sorts, or on the very last day of classes before exams began and many of them left for college, university, or just to travel the world.

With her heels clacking on the linoleum floor, she greeted the woman on the other side of the desk with a kind smile showing off her straight white teeth that were the product of a little over three years of braces and not giving into her father’s insatiable sweet tooth. “Hi, I’m Sarah-Jane Smith. I’m the new transfer from Nebraska.” That was the last place she had gone to school and had done the transfer papers up herself a day or two after moving into her apartment as her dad never seemed to remember that there was paperwork to fill out every time they moved.

She got _very_ good at forging his autograph.

“Oh yes.” The older woman adjusted the thin rimmed glasses slowly slipping down her pointed nose. “I remember seeing you pop up in my system.” There is rapid typing, or as rapid as a woman who looks close to retirement, before the woman begins to print off paperwork, tapping them on the foot and a half of desk between them to even out the six or seven pieces of paper. “I just need you to get your teachers to sign at the bottom of these pages,” she made a point of showing and pointing to the x on the bottom on five of the pieces of paper, “and return them at the end of the day.

“And this last page is a map of the school, just to help you get your bearings. Any locker with a two at the start is on the second floor. Any classroom with a three at the start means the art wing, four is for the humanities area, and five is the athletics department.” Sarah knew that the woman was trying to be helpful by pointing out the areas she mentioned on the map but all it looked to Sarah was a map of the school with numbers swimmings around all over the page being quite the distraction.

“I know given your...disability-” Sarah could feel the smile fall from her face at that word.

All her life, since she was diagnosed at such a young age, Sarah had lived with the stigma that having dyslexia brought with it. People automatically assumed she was stupid, that she was only getting through school with pity marks, and teachers were always the worst; they never even gave her a chance once they learned about her it was as if they would give up on her before she ever even opened her mouth.

So she quickly learned to prove them wrong.

It was hard, so unbelievably hard and she had to do it pretty much all herself as her father never had the problem so he had no idea how to help - it didn’t help he tended to be more concerned with dealing out his own version of justice to those he felt too highly of themselves. So, she found ways to help herself learn and made a point to be at the top of each of her classes, except art because she could barely draw a stick person to save her life, to prove to all her naysayers wrong.

And it was always a benefit to see the shock on their faces.

“-we have you in the dash three classes where-”

“No.” Her tone was final as she interrupted Mrs. Andrel, the name plate was hidden behind the little potted plant. “I believe on my transfer papers it had me taking the advanced placement courses.”

“Well.” Mrs. Andrel stammered out, “We just thought...”

Carefully placing her right hand overtop of Mrs. Andrel’s, that was still resting on the six pieces of paper between them. “The advanced placement classes would be the best for me.” It was unsurprising to Sarah as Mrs. Andrel’s hazel eyes took on a blue hue as well as the veins directly around her eyes.

It was so much easier to influence people with physical contact, not saying it wasn’t easy without it but it took much less effort doing it how she was at the moment.

“Yes. I’ll get right on that.” Sarah never removed her hand from Mrs. Andrel’s and watched with her own glowing blue eyes as more papers were printed and finally handed over to Sarah. “Here you go dear, all the new paper work.” She took the papers with a smile, shoving them into the open flap on her laptop bag laying on her hip, before holding out her free hand and watching as the now old papers floated away and into a small garbage can right beside the printer.

The smile, a bit more strained this time, was back on Sarah’s face as she removed her hands from Mrs. Andrel’s and watched the woman blink rapidly to try and regain her bearings. “Thank you.” She spun around on her heels, her black trench coat that ended just above her knees swishing with each step she took away from the office and braved the sea of orange.

Sarah couldn’t help but imagine herself as Moses parting the Red Sea to help lead the freed slaves from the pursuing Egyptians, she could just picture the eye roll her father would do if he ever heard that thought, as she stopped dead in her tracks and the rest of the school population moved around her only the odd person staring at her as the bell rang once signally for everyone to get to their first class of the day.

“Hi.” A perky voice spoke up from behind her and Sarah spun slowly to face an equally perky heart shaped face framed by long dark hair. “You look a little lost. First day?” The other girl tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and flashed Sarah a very toothy smile. “Sorry,” the other girl stuck her hand out to Sarah and the blonde slowly reached her own out to shake the offered hand, “my name’s Dana.”

“Sarah.” It was easy for her to plaster a smile on her face when she realised that Dana was just being friendly and was extremely normal.

Couldn’t be too careful in a town like this nor in times like these.

“And yes, I’m very lost.” She took her hand back and used it to readjust how the strap to her laptop bag was sitting on her shoulder. She would probably be the only one at this school to take a laptop to class but she needed it to record the lectures and it had a program that would type them out for her to practice reading later.

That was apparently an invitation for Dana to link arms with her and steal her time table from where it was half hanging out of her bag. “Well, good thing for you is that we have first period together. And fair warning, Mr.Pink can be a real hard-ass and _loves_ pop quizzes. Like I mean, he _loves_ them.” Sarah just nodded along as Dana chattered along beside her, pulling her gently down a hall to the right of a trophy case chock full of football memorabilia. 

Those kinds of teachers were never fun in Sarah’s mind. Most schools she found were quite understanding of her...problem...and made sure that there were options for her in the event of having to take a test, quiz, or do an essay but there were still teachers who thought she was faking it and always tried to find a way to make it near impossible for her to pass their class.

Near impossible, but she was her father’s daughter and she was stubborn.

And a teacher that liked, or loved if Dana was correct, to give out pop quizzes constantly were always the most difficult to deal with because they had to find an administrator to help her take it so that they could focus on the students that didn’t have what she did.

She could only hope that Dana was wrong about the pop quizzes.

“-Chad, well, he’s my boyfriend. Really nice guy. We’ve been together since freshman year. You’ll love him, he’s so funny. What about you, any boyfriend?” Sarah had no idea how they had gotten on to the topic of significant others, last she checked they were talking about the chemistry teacher.

“No.” Her answer was curt.

There was never any point nor time for her to get to know someone enough to be in a romantic relationship. One night stands or hook up at some parties, she had done that before.

And it wasn’t like her father could take the moral high ground when he learned what she had done, it would be the pot calling the kettle back but he always made sure to stress to her the importance of not getting pregnant, probably one of the only things about her life that he actually made an effort about.

Maybe that was too harsh. Her father had done a great deal for her all her life, Hell she could say without exaggeration that if any of her aunts and uncles - save for her Uncle B - found out that she existed they would not hesitate to bring down the power of God on them.

“Well, just you wait. You are so freaking pretty that you’ll have all the boys eating out of your hands in no time.” Dana skipped around in front of Sarah swinging their hands together as she stopped in front of an open classroom door where a very severe looking older man with glasses that took up half his face with a full beard that was silver in more places than it was black. “And here we are.” She said with a flourish, “I hope we get to sit together that way we can get to know each other some more.”

“Me too.” Sarah lied through her teeth as she separated from Dana and approached Mr. Pink while dragging one of the pieces of papers out of her bag and giving him a sheepish smile as he made a point to smooth it out on his desk after it had gotten crumpled in her bag.

And she was already off to a bad start with him, great.


	5. Midnight Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and  
>  adopt as many of the children as possible.
> 
> He got eight of them.
> 
> *
> 
> The day Catherine Hargreeves walked out of the doors of the Umbrella Academy with only the clothes on her back and a small purse with money she had hoarded in secret was the best day of her life.
> 
> And for over ten years she was able to keep her distance from her family until the day she learned about her father’s death.
> 
> All roads lead back home, even if home is where you killed your brother.

If there was one thing Amelia liked about this semester so far was the fact she could tell her two most troublesome students both had gym class the period before and were therefore somewhat tired out when they got to her class, saving her from yet another three months of constant headaches from the antics they constantly would get up to not just in her class the previous semester but also what they have been known to get up to in the classes of her colleges.

  
Unfortunately, with them having gym right before her class made it so that they were often ‘too tired’ to concentrate, giving her a different type of headache to deal with.

  
Casting her grey eyes up from where they were angled down at the top of her dark wood desk where Amelia sat with a red pen in the left hand as she marked the essays she had assigned to her students the week before on any topic they wanted to pick, she couldn’t help but school her expressions into a mask of indifference as her two troublemaking students were all but slumped over each other barely able to keep their eyes open to watch the film adaptation of Shakespeare’s Scottish play.

  
Neither of the two boys were stupid, she could tell that they just needed to be challenged and for the teachers they had to give them that little bit of a push so that the boys, a set of twins with identical hair styles just mirrored to the other so that a person could easily tell them apart given their perfectly identical looks, could discover their true potential.

  
Amelia wished that she could be that teacher that helped push Matthew and Davis Bowers but she knew from previous experience the year prior that she was not going to be that teacher.

  
It had been a simple assignment, just answer twenty questions over the weekend about the first five chapters of assigned reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ and hand them come Monday. So easy a middle schooler could do it especially since they all had a copy of the boy from the school library she had made sure to take all thirty of her students down to get.

  
But, apparently even that was too difficult for the twins because come Monday neither of them even answered five questions leaving Amelia with no choice but to give them a failing mark on the assignment.

  
That class had been the one right before lunch and Amelia had collected the assignment at the beginning of the period and thought nothing else of it as she punched in the marks after she had finished her lecture and left the students to read silently amongst themselves the next five chapters of the book.

  
The bell had rung signally the end of class and it hadn’t even been long enough for Amelia to get finished reminding her students of the test on the first half of the book at the end of the week before the principal of the school was rushing into her classroom and all but dragging her with a white knuckle grip on her wrist into one of the large conference rooms where the parents of the twins appeared with stern and ice cold looks in their eyes on the facetime call.

  
At the time, Amelia had no idea just what the twins parents did for work and to this day still hadn’t the foggiest idea only that they had friends on high places not just in the government-as they had no problems constantly mentioning during the call and each time they did Amelia couldn’t help but notice from the corner of her grey eyes the way the principal would nervously tug at the red striped tie wrapped around his neck and how sweat seemed to roll down from his thinning hairline-but also on the board of directors for the school board.

  
Amelia wanted to scoff aloud at the blatant way the Bowers had threatened not just her job but also the principals job just because she had given their sons a failing grade on an assignment they hadn’t even half completed.

  
She wished she could say she was surprised at the way the Bowers casually threw their money around, even going so far as to, in front of her even, send the principal a money transfer in exchange for him removing the assignment of their sons final reports and threatening her by leaving her without a job in the county and completely desitude if she even thought about giving their sons a failing mark ever again.

  
But, alast, Amelia could only clench her jaw closed and give a tight lip smile as she nodded silently, as she was the product of an individual throwing money at a person and getting what they wanted/

  
And they threatened her job. Amelia could take threats against herself, Hell the formative years of her life had been full of constant threats against her very life so she could take them like water off a ducks back, but she knew if she lost her job and any chance to teach again that she would go crazy.

  
Maybe it was vindictive but Ameilia couldn’t wait for the day the twins graduated and got thrown head first into the real world and realized that mom and dad couldn’t buy them true happiness, that came from experience and self discovery; something Amelia had only discovered herself the day she left home at seventeen and finally got out from under her ‘father’s’ thumb.

  
There was a knock on her classroom door and sixteen heads, including her own, slowly swung towards the robin eye blue painted door with the slim vertical window opened and on the other side stood the principal nervously tugging at his blue striped tie with one hand and the other resting on the silver door knob letting the white-yellow light of the hallway creep into her near dark room.

  
Casting a quick glance down at the small clock sitting on her desk beside a well-worn copy of Vanya Hargreeves’ book ‘Extra-Ordinary:My Life as Number Seven’ Amelia set her red pen on the desk and picked up the remote to the DVD player to pause the movie pretty much at the exact part of the play the class had read up to, good timing on the principal’s part as she had zoned out and the knocking at the door brought her back to the present, and there was only ten minutes left in the school day.

  
Amelia couldn’t help but roll her eyes as pretty much all her students pulled out their cellphones as she stood up from her dress, pulling the blue blouse down to cover the waistband of her black pencil skirt as she slipped on the peep-toed wedges she had kicked off under her desk as she sat marking the essays giving her three more inches on her short stature of five foot two.

  
Not that the extra three inches helped as she stepped out into the hall, not completely closing the door behind her but closing it enough that the students couldn’t see out unless they were looking through the window, as the schools principal was an older man with a stroud statue that stood at six feet even.

  
Amelia couldn’t help but notice the beginning of a moustache starting on his upper lip, the salt and peppers hairs drawing her attention as his lips quivered before his arms hot out and wrapped around her shocking Ameilia still at the sudden action because out of everything that could have started their conversation minutes away from the end of the school day that was not was she would have put money on and she could feel her dark eyebrows disappear up into her hairline.

  
As quickly as it happened, Principal Higgins had pulled back but kept one hand wrapped around the upperpart of her arm that was still holding onto the door to her classroom while his other dug through the pocket of his dark coloured dress pants to pull out a tissue to dap at the corners of his eyes where tears were forming.

  
“Oh, Amy.” He sniffed and the woman in question with her dark haired pulled back into a bun so that there was only a lock on either side of her face framing the shape of it couldn’t help but pull a pinched expression at the friendly nickname her co-worker had given her a few days after meeting and that he still used to this day even though she made a point to tell him and every other college how much she disliked the name. 

  
Ameilia had been referred to by two previous names in her life before she picked the name she went by now and she would greatly appreciate it if her colleges would do the bare minimum and respect her choice of wanting to be called by it without having them shorten it.

  
“Oh, I came as soon as I got off the phone with the board.” Principal Higgins continued with his brown eyes turning red and his full cheeks jiggled with every word. “You don’t need to worry about anything, you’ve got the rest of the week plus next week off with pay and we have the best substitute coming in to cover for you while you’re gone.” he gave a loud sniff before shoving the tissue back in his pocket and ignoring how Amelia gently shook her arm as a signal for him to let go but instead he just fixed the way his ill-fitting suit jacket sat over his body with his one free hand.

  
Just what was he talking about? Why would she need to take the rest of the week off and all of the next one? And why was he talking about getting a sub for her classes?

  
The confusion must have been evident on her face even if she tried to hide it because Principal Higgins took the initiative to answer her unspoken question with rapidly blinking eyes as he cleared his throat to collect himself.

  
"It's your father, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, he was found dead."

  
Had it been any other day Amelia would have been disgusted in the way she sunk to the floor of the school bathroom after closing the door, an actual door to the stall and not like the stall doors most bathrooms had so she didn't have to worry about any of the students getting out of class finding their English teacher in the middle of a breakdown, and for once in her life being happy with just how short she was because it allowed her to curl up into a ball without getting stuck.

  
Her shoes clattered to the ground as she toed them off, scowling as she heard her pantyhose ripped in the process and her exposed big toe touched the cold tile floor of the bathroom stall.

  
For over ten years Amelia had kept the fact she was one of the children adopted by Reginald Hargreeves a secret from the rest of the world and it was only because one of her colleges had gotten to curious for his own good and put two and two together and pretty soon the whole school knew who she was.

  
Well, it wasn't so much of him putting two and two together and getting four as it was the full coverage make-up she used to cover up the black umbrella tattoo on her had gotten rubbed off and he just so happened to walk into her classroom as Amelia was in the process of covering it back up.

  
The black stuck out like a sore thumb against her fair coloured skin.

  
That led to many questions she hadn't wanted to answer but begrudgingly did once he brought it up to the rest of their colleges.

  
It was the reason why, on the outside of the door to her classroom, she had a sign saying that there would be no mention of the Umbrella Academy once her students crossed the threshold.

  
Even if the tattoo was covered up by both the cover up makeup and the long sleeve of her blouse, she could feel it burning much like the day she sat in the same chair as her siblings under the watching eyes of their Father even if she wanted to just sink through the leather and the tile to get away from it all.

  
Letting out a shuttering breath, that wasn't caused by the cool paint covered cement of the bathroom stall from where her blouse had ridden up exposing her back, she reached behind her to take out the elastic band holding her hair back and shook her hand through it to help release the tension and try to relieve some of the headache she could feel building.

  
How many times over the years had she wanted to hear those words, how many times had she imagined going out and celebrating hearing those words only to now realize that she didn't know what to do with herself now that she had heard them.

  
If her therapist could see her now Amelia had no idea how the woman would react. Would she be happy to see that Amelia wasn't screaming from the rooftops or would she be disappointed in Amelia for leaving the one sided conversation with the principal to go hide her breakdown in the bathroom.

  
Maybe her reaction was normal for her family-

  
Oh God, her family.

  
She hadn't seen her family since the day she walked out of the house in the middle of the night and had done her best to avoid seeing them in any form, which wasn't the easiest given that one of her two sisters was a Hollywood scarlett and one of her brothers was the man living on the moon. Her sister, that wasn't the movie star, had called a few years back while Amelia was at university and that was the last time she talked with any of her siblings.

  
How were they reacting to the news?

  
Was Klaus even alive to hear the news or had he overdosed sometime in the last ten years?

  
Did Luther get the news while living on the moon?

  
Was Diego in jail or had he gotten himself killed still trying to live the vigilante lifestyle their Father had drilled into them?

  
Were the paparazzi going after Allison trying to get her honest reaction to the news?

  
And what about Vanya, her plain and ordinary sister who was born without powers and suffered from a dangerous mixture of anxiety and low self esteem, how was she holding up?

  
She was going to have to go back even if none of her siblings were going to if they were even alive and able to go back, she was going to have to make sure the Old Man was laid to rest even if he didn't deserve it after the trauma and abuse he put herself and her siblings through, and it was abuse even if he never physically hit them.

  
THAT took many, many, sessions with her therapist to come to that conclusion and to start the healing process she so desperately needed but hadn't known she needed at the time.

  
Maybe it would have been better if her Father had hit her instead of getting one of her siblings to do it in training because it would have saved her and her therapist months of dancing around the subject and her justifying the action.

  
And maybe someone on the outside could have seen the bruises and pulled the weight of them out of the house.

  
Slowly looking up to the ceiling of the bathroom stall and holding tight to two handfuls of hair, Amelia couldn't help the grimace that formed on her face as she came to the realization that this was happening.

  
She was going home.

  
"Shit


End file.
